Night Terrors
by Moosashi
Summary: Three days had passed since the first ghoul attack, and each night Izumo found herself plagued by the same nightmare. It has taken a toll on her mind, body, and spirit, breaking slowly away at her adamancy. Nevertheless, she is determined she can face it alone, just like everything else in her life; that is until Rin shows her she doesn't have to.


A.N. Inspired by the nightmares Izumo experiences after the first ghoul attack. Enjoy!

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Dreaded moaning, awful dreaded moaning. And that tormented, twisted face. She had to run. It was coming for her again—_what_, she thought in a panic, _when did it get over me?!_ Her eyes were nothing more than dulled red stones, not even a remnant of their previous luster shining through their coating of sheer terror. Her body trembled and her teeth might have been chattering if only her mouth wasn't wide open and letting out a bloodcurdling scream. Its mouth was open as well, leaning closer and closer to her defenseless body. It was going to tear at her flesh. Would it hurt to die? She wasn't certain anymore, because although she was terrified beyond recognition of her once adamant demeanor, she had already lost everything she had; on the ground beyond the hulking mass of twisted decomposing matter that loomed over her lay her best friend's corpse torn asunder.

Just as its teeth sank into her shoulder, she screamed even louder and forced herself upright, flailing her limbs in last moment desperation to save herself. Her hands collided with a soft and malleable airy material, the likes of which pulled at a limb of her body whenever she pushed it with a different limb. It was consuming her. There was no way out. It was pitch black. "Let me go!" she screamed, still fighting to free herself. "Let me go! I don't want to…Paku…" She lost all will to fight and succumbed to her fate. There was nothing left for her here anyways.

She waited for death to take her. It was a relief to her that, at the very least, the horrid stench of the ghoul had somehow dispersed and replacing it was a combination of fresh linen and sweat. She allowed her eyes to open and carefully tugged at the strange material surrounding her. Suddenly it fell from over her head to her waist and she could see a dim light illuminating her surroundings—the light of the moon. Her hand suddenly clasped over her mouth and she let tears escape her eyes. This was the third night since that incident. The third night she had that same nightmare. She whimpered quietly for a minute in her sweat-soaked bed and then wiped her tears away. Her legs swayed over the edge of the bed from under the covers and she let her bare feet touch the cool surface of the wooden floor.

After wandering to her desk, she stared into the dark mirror. Nerves of steel and a complexion to match stared back at her; had she been someone else and staring at the girl she currently saw, she wouldn't be able to deduce that she'd been crying not even a moment ago. A shudder caused her to break her gaze from the mirror. The room was cool and her sweaty clothes and clammy skin amplified the cool atmosphere into coldness. She discarded her clothes, tossing them every which way without a care; she hugged herself for warmth with one arm while searching through her small dresser for something to wear. A neatly folded midnight shirt caught her attention; there was a crimson skull on it being pierced in a crisscross formation, one side by a pitchfork, the other by a skewer. Seeing it made her smile and she instinctively grabbed it.

Now that she was dressed again she felt a lot warmer. She attributed most of the heat as being generated from the large tee-shirt she wore; it was a mental notion that sent warmth through every extremity of her body, even if the literal warmth was coming from the thick pants she had on. Regardless of that warmth, she knew she wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon. What she needed was fresh air, but the small window in her room wasn't going to supply enough of it.

The hallways of the old dorm seemingly stretched on forever due to their abysmal blackness in the dead of night. It was unsettling to her. She hugged herself loosely while trying not to let her gaze wander from her front; if it did, she felt she would see that tormented, twisted face leering at her from the dark depths. After all, she could already hear its dreadful moaning, awful dreadful moaning…

She shook her head violently, allowing her eyes to snap shut only for a moment as she continued to walk down the corridor. _No_, she told herself, _that's just the creaking of this creepy building. That thing isn't here anymore…_. She wasn't all too confident in her statement; she was beyond happy when she pushed open the doors leading to the outside, but was surprised to see a dark figure walking towards her. She tensed up as the silhouette of a person stopped.

"Miss Izumo, is everything all right?"

The voice was kind and concerned. She knew exactly who it was and sighed in relief. "Yes, Mister Okumura. I just couldn't sleep."

"I see," he replied while resuming his pace. As he walked past her he said, "Do not leave the premises. I've set up powerful wards and barriers in lieu of the attack three days ago, but I cannot guarantee your safety should you wander outside of them."

She gave a slight bow. "I understand."

He stopped and turned to her. "I know that event took quite a toll on you."

She flinched at his words. Had Rin told Yukio about how she was after the attack? A temper flared in her. She recalled wanting to return his shirt but the idiot wouldn't promise to keep his mouth shut about how weak and vulnerable she had become after the attack. Yukio's words broke her from her angry reverie.

"If you need someone to talk to, you know I will always lend my students an ear."

Even in the dim illumination of night she could see his soft smile. She bowed once more. "Yes, I know."

"Good," he replied earnestly before resuming his pace a second time. "You know where to find me. Good night, Miss Izumo."

"Good night, Mister Okumura," she responded. Out of anyone else in this entire establishment they called "Cram School," Yukio Okumura was one of the only three people she held respect for. The man was a great teacher and an excellent exorcist, his young age neither diminishing that fact or his high level of maturity. He was a remarkable man. The second person she respected was her best friend Paku, and the third…she looked down at the shirt she was wearing.

She recalled that the boy whose shirt she wore liked to sit on roofs a lot. Knowing that wearing his shirt made her feel calm she assumed that maybe being in one of his favorite places would amplify that feeling. It took her a few minutes of wandering to find an old stone staircase carved into the side of the building that would take her to its roof, but it only took her a few seconds to race up it. She reveled in the odd beauty of the rooftop terrace, it being nothing more than old and relatively plain architecture yet calming to her mind, body, and soul. After sitting down on the edge and allowing her legs to dangle over it, she fell onto her back and stared into the starry sky above. It really was calming—perhaps too calming if the increasing weight of her eyelids were any indicator; they half-closed, and opened, half-closed again, and opened less, and then shut completely.

Had she fallen asleep? She wasn't entirely sure, but if she had, she was somewhat awake now. There was a feeling on her face, like warm air being blown against it at a rhythmic rate. Her eyelids opened and she saw a pair of blue eyes staring down at her with the curious intent of a cat. Her eyes widened and she suddenly shot straight up, the face above hers retracting just in the nick of time as if the person it belonged to had been in this situation before. She found her limbs flailing in an attempt to keep her balance as her sudden shift of posture had made her unsteady. The ground she stared at some twenty feet below seemed to zoom in and out, in and out, and for a moment she wondered if she was falling. After steadying herself, she sighed; she hadn't fallen. But she almost did, and it was because of, "Rin!" she hissed his name. "What the hell?!"

His only response was a fit of laughter. For a moment she was tempted to hit him—she might have too if he hadn't sat next to her.

"Déjà-vu," he told her. "Don't worry about it. Anyways, why the heck are you out here, Eyebrows?"

She cringed at the nickname. "What's it matter? I can do what I want." Her reply came nonchalantly, the remark of someone who was certain they were their own boss.

"Sure," he told her. "Is that why you never returned my shirt? The one you're wearing right now."

She huffed and crossed her arms at her chest. It was bothersome, but she hadn't a reasonable response for him. It made her feel calm to wear it, just as it did the night he gave it to her. But she couldn't tell him that. It'd be awkward, to put it simply. So she changed the subject. "Why are you here?"

Rin grunted. "Asking questions you won't answer yourself? You're so stuck up."

She turned away from him and softly mimicked his grunt.

"Fine, fine," he mumbled in submission. "Yukio told me he saw you out here, so I came out to check on you. It took me a while to find you." He let his heel clack against the building's side. "Never thought I'd find you up here."

"I'm _fine_," she told him sternly. It couldn't have been more of a lie.

He gazed at her with concern hidden behind his unwavering eyes. "You don't have to act all tough you know. Especially around me, since I know what you went through." He saw her tense up. It was a truth he knew she'd rather him not know. He reached his arm around her back to her opposite shoulder and pulled her close, her head falling onto his shoulder. "Everyone has their weak moments," he assured her. "Well, except me." He grinned.

She suddenly pushed him away and he almost lost balance on the edge. "I'm not weak!" she shouted. "I don't need to be babied! I can handle everything on my own!" She felt sure of herself, of her statements—but then why did a whimper escape her throat? Suddenly she felt a head on her shoulder. It startled her, and slowly she turned to see Rin resting his head there.

"It's okay to be weak at times," he told her again. "Even for me." It was in complete contrast to the cocky statement he had made just a moment ago.

She closed her eyes. "Whatever. You don't understand."

"Like hell I don't."

Her eyes shot open; she was shocked by the powerful answer that came during his display of so-called weakness.

He hadn't moved from her shoulder. "You're not the only person here who has had dire moments in their life. Be thankful that nothing serious happened during that ghoul attack! It doesn't turn out that way every time…"

"Be thankful?!" She was shouting again. "Paku is scarred for life and she's quitting the Cram School because of it!"

"And she's alive."

She suddenly gasped. Why did Rin sound so sad?

"We've all only been classmates for a short time," he stated quietly. "There's so much we don't know about each other and," his tone escalated somewhat before he paused. "Konekomaru, Suguro, Shima, they all have their own past that haunts them every day. And Shiemi, she lost her grandmother that she adored."

She let her gaze fall to the ground far below her. "You're saying I lucked out, then."

"No," he corrected strongly. "You suffered just like the rest of us. But you should be thankful for what didn't happen instead of feeling sorry about what did."

His words hit her hard and she couldn't reply. Paku didn't die. She should be thankful for that instead of moping about how Paku had gotten hurt or how Paku _could_ have died. Maybe the nightmares would go away if she just thought more positively. The fact that Rin sounded sad crossed her mind again; he said 'rest of us,' did he not? "What's your story?" The words left her lips more coldly than she wished, but that was just how she was. Doing her best to elaborate, she added, "Did something terrible happen to you too?"

It fell quiet. She turned her head to look down at his face, surprised to see an emotion so foreign to it: sadness. Hearing it in his voice had been one thing, but actually seeing it on his face…it didn't feel right to her. "H-Hey," she stuttered, "are you all right?"

Silence again. She gazed at him until he finally spoke. "My dad was killed in front of my eyes. Murdered."

She gasped, and in genuine concern murmured, "What?"

His eyes closed and his face cringed; she wondered if he was reliving the incident. "Right before I came to this school, he was murdered by a demon. Satan."

The name sent chills down her spine. "What happened?" She reminded herself after the words to tread carefully.

"Satan possessed him and his body couldn't handle it. He..." hesitation was evident in his voice. He hadn't let this memory impregnate his mind since the incident; he didn't want to relive it—ever. Yet here he was, doing just that. He could see that old man's body falling apart in front of him, blood flowing like streams from his nostril and his eyes—oh, his eyes; those wicked, demonic and foreign turquoise eyes.

A hand shook him gently and he looked up to see her burgundy eyes gazing down at him in worry; they made him feel drunk—relaxed and worriless. She blinked, causing the spell to break. "I'm sorry," she said.

He knew that an apology from Izumo Kamiki was a rare and prestigious thing to receive; as such, it was something that allowed him to break free from the clutches of the terrible memory. "You're sorry?" he asked incredulously. She thought he was being sincere and was about to explain her apology until he jested, "I can't believe it! You really are human!"

She scowled the scowl of all scowls and exhaled vehemently. "Forget I said anything!"

"I'm kidding!" he insisted, laughing against her shoulder. "But thanks for listening. It feels good to finally have confided in someone other than my brother."

A weak smile prodded her lips. Rin could be nice when he wanted to be. She gazed at him hesitantly, averting his eyes when he met the gaze with his own. "Listen," she began in a whisper, "I haven't," she completely stopped.

"Haven't what?" he urged.

Sighing, she continued, hopeful that she would feel the same relief he just had after he'd confided in her. "I haven't been able to sleep well since the ghoul attack."

He finally lifted his head from her shoulder, a regrettable action in her mind because at that moment she needed the comforting gesture the most. "Why not?"

"I keep having nightmares."

"Describe them."

"What?!" she shouted defensively while looking at him like he asked her something incredibly personal.

"What's the big deal?" he retorted in annoyance.

She settled down. He was right; she was making a big deal out of nothing. She began slowly. "They always start with that _thing_ killing…killing Paku." She cringed. "And once it's done with her it crawls towards me slowly and I can't, I can't do anything about it because I can't move and it looms over me and—"

"Hey hey, calm down!" he demanded while shaking her shoulder roughly. Her eyes snapped shut and she cringed again. At the risk of making her angry once more, he slinked his hand around her back and pulled her towards him, her head on his shoulder. "Take it slowly."

She didn't resist his hold this time and instead nodded into his neck. "It pins me and leans in to kill me, and the stench, its face, its moan, are all godforsaken!" She couldn't believe it—she, Izumo Kamiki, the class queen of adamant resolve—she was crying in front of someone.

"It's…" he trailed off, not certain of how to act in a situation like this. Sure, he had told her it was okay to be weak at times, but he had never expected to see her upset like this ever again. "It's okay." He rubbed her back tenderly to strengthen his assurance.

She sobbed onto his shoulder, having moved her face to the cloth of his shirt after her tears initially spilled onto his neck. "What if it comes back?" she asked him in a daze. "What if I can't protect anyone?"

He took her chin and tilted her head up to lock their gazes. Adorning his face was a wide, almost sinister grin. "If that ghoul comes back, I'll make sure it burns in Hell."

She let out a tiny chuckle at the comment while she smiled weakly. She was thankful for his steadfast words; unbeknownst to her, his gesture was true to each and every word, for he could make such a thing happen. "Th-thank-you, Rin."

His grin changed to one donning bemusement. "Now you're thanking me?" He let out a nonchalant whistle. "This is one strange night."

She pushed him and he nearly fell off the building. This back-and-forth sincerity and mockery was getting her peeved. "Whatever," she stated coldly. She was ready to get back to her room, fearful that if she stayed here any longer she might catch his idiocy; so she stood with the intention of just leaving him here.

"Wait!" he called out to her. After falling into step next to her, he offered, "No need to be so rude. Let's walk back together."

"Fine."

She had no other words for him as they walked down the stairs and into the dorm. What she noticed, however, was that the creaking of the building and darkness of the corridor didn't seem to taunt her, to scare her. It no longer sounded like a moaning ghoul and she no longer felt its presence in the darkness. A quick glance to the boy next to her made her wonder if it was because he was here. Would she be okay once she was alone again?

"Well, good night, Eyebrows," he teased as they stopped in front of her room. He awaited her scolding for using that nickname but it never came. His eyes curiously examined her current figure from head-to-toe, noting that she looked rather glum with her downcast gaze and still figure. He reached his hand out and ruffled her nightshade hair; the action caused her to retract. "Don't look so glum," he said playfully.

She looked up at him. "Okay, but only if you come here."

He let out a "huh?" before pointing at himself stupidly. She nodded and motioned with her finger for him to lean in. He did so and suddenly felt a powerful tug at his hair; he swore it was being ripped from his scalp as he let out repetitive "ow" noises.

"Call me 'Eyebrows' again," she threatened venomously, "and I'll kill you." As if by cue of the nickname she had stated, her small eyebrows had furrowed to compliment her scowl. She pulled him closer and planted a tiny kiss on his forehead before releasing her death-grip and trotting into her room, the door closing hastily behind her.

Rin put a hand to his head, massaging where she had tugged his hair. He and all the others had once teased that Shima was a masochist, but after experiencing that little kiss with the pain, he began to wonder if it was actually him that term pertained to instead.

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A.N. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


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